Tears & Rain
by SeptimaBode
Summary: a collection of drabbles & one-shots. ongoing. currently Dramione-centric. this is all missyn83's fault. blame her.
1. Hermione Malfoy

Hermione Malfoy

* * *

The blustery wind wrapped around them as their feet crunched in the hardened snow. He felt the delicate hand in his and managed to contain his smile. He felt the small tug on his hand and knew they were nearly there.

He knew this day was coming, as it had come with his son years earlier. It was never any easier. The ache in his chest was as fresh as the first time he'd felt it. He waited. He kept waiting for the sorrow to ebb, but instead, it lodged so deep within him, he wasn't certain he could function without it any longer.

A golden brown curl twisted around his finger as he smoothed down the unruly curls. He knew he should have insisted on a hat. She was always obstinate and he decided it wasn't worth the argument that would ensue.

He watched her fingers carefully brush the gathering of snow from the top of the stone and refused to cry. He wanted to reprimand her for kneeling in the freezing snow, as he knew she'd catch a chill, but he couldn't. He simply stood there in the heart of winter with his heart in his throat.

"Daddy?" The little girl glanced up at her father with a very serious furrow to her brow.

"Yes, poppet?"

She glanced between the unforgiving stone and her father, afraid to ask her question, but desperate to know. She traced the letters and watched the snow gather on her fingertip. She knew what it said, but it didn't mean as much to her as it did her brother.

"Did she love me?"

It was easier to ask while she stared at the place where her mother lay. It was easier to avoid the pain in her father's eyes when she was busy concentrating on the woman she'd never truly met. She knew the story, knew it quite well, but it wasn't the same. She didn't remember the kind-hearted mother her brother did. She only had stories and it wasn't the same at all.

"They told her it was dangerous, did I ever tell you that?"

She sighed and shook her head while her father sat beside her in the frigid snow. She didn't understand the way his palm stroked the grey stone and was quickly distracted by the snowflakes floating around the halo of her curls.

"The Healers told her it wasn't a good idea. It was difficult for her to have your brother and it was worse with you. She wouldn't listen to them, of course. She was always ridiculously headstrong. I was furious with her. I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this, you're so young. She laughed at me and made me promise to name you Rose."

"You braked your promise to mummy?" The little girl gasped and damned if his heart didn't clench in his chest.

"You look just like her," he continued. "I finally gave up fighting with her and agreed to grace our daughter with her choice, if she could promise she wouldn't leave me. She rolled her eyes and said I was an idiot, which was just her way of telling me she loved me. She knew. She knew she was going to leave me the moment you screamed your way into the world."

"Daddy, don't cry." She grasped her father's face in her reddened hands and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

"There's nothing wrong with a man's tears, Calista Rose, your mummy taught me that," He drew his daughter into his arms and inhaled against the unruly, golden brown curls that would always remind him of his wife.

"Daddy, did she love me?"

Draco Malfoy kissed his daughter's forehead and squeezed her tighter than necessary. He finally set her on her feet and stood. He held out his hand and patiently waited for the small hand to slide into his. As they began to walk the snow covered path that ambled down to their home, he glanced at the grey stone once more.

"More than anything."

-fin


	2. The Letter

_The Letter_

* * *

 _Granger,_

 _You'll never forgive me for this. I know you won't, but that's alright. You see, this was always the plan. My plan. I know you're the brightest witch of the age, but I will always be the sort of wizard that disregards such notions in order to protect you. They were targeting you. Your infinite stubbornness and horrible Gryffindor nature would have seen you in the thick of it. They would have killed you and I, I couldn't have that._

 _You're probably wondering why you're sitting there holding this bit of parchment and well, that's my fault. It was spelt to disappear if— but, if you're holding it, it's probably best to assume the worst and for that, I will never be sorry. It means you're alive and fuck, Granger; Potter hasn't a chance without you. You are the most important piece to ending this blasted war._

 _I know you and you're probably shouting for Potter, but it doesn't matter. We're all gone. Polyjuice is a fascinating Potion, though I can't say Essence of Granger was particularly appealing._

 _I love you. I should have said it while you were awake, looking at me with those hypnotizing amber flecked eyes of yours, but I didn't. I couldn't. If I heard the words fall from your lips, I doubt I could have left you and even now, I'm struggling. I don't want to leave you. I don't want my last look of you to be your pink lips slightly parted and your ridiculous hair tangled on my pillow._

 _I've always been labelled the coward, and perhaps I was, but I like to think, in this moment, as I walk into the darkness, I'm better than that. As I leave behind the only light in my life, I go with my head held high and dammit, Granger, this is all your fault._

 _Why couldn't you just have stayed that buck-toothed little twat? Oh, that's right, the teeth bit, that was my fault. Well, you didn't have to fix them so perfectly. Who the hell taught you to tame that mane you call hair anyway? It was so much easier when it looked as though bird's nested in it. Why did you have to be so fucking nice to me? I didn't deserve it. I should be hating you instead of feeling my heart rend in two._

 _I don't know when it happened or even how it happened, but it did. Suddenly, I didn't care that your hair was this awful tangle of curls that reminded me of Devil's Snare. I knew that one day, they'd tangle all around me. They would never have let me go and I found that I didn't mind that idea one bit. I would have happily been your captive, Granger. In fact, I was, wasn't I? I was yours and you were mine._

 _I can't tell you the number of times my heart felt a bit lighter while basking in your smile. I can't tell you the number of times I was overwhelmed by all the chaos around me and you were that beacon that led me home. You made me into the man I am, so really, this is all your fault._

 _I had plans for us. I never told you. I should have told you, and now it's too late._

 _I've got to do this. I can't be that wizard that hides in safe houses, especially when I know what they've got planned for you. I can't subject you to that. I won't. Fuck, this is killing me._

 _My favourite bits were the ones we shared in the darkness. Whispering over tepid cups of tea. Stolen kisses in darkened corners. I'd shagged my fair share of witches and probably Weasley's share as well, but I'd never felt anything until you. I'd never taken the time to study every inch of porcelain skin and yearn for breathless whimpers, until you._

 _I carry every moment with me, but I don't want that for you. I don't want you to dwell upon white picket fairytales, because let's face it, the Manor is entirely too large for that sort of nonsense. I don't want you to dream of curly haired blonde children running about causing mischief. I don't want you to meticulously analyze where our children would have been Sorted and whether they'd have my eyes or your brains. I don't want you to be sad for always, love._

 _I want you to recall that pompous git that sneered at you as soon as look at you. Perhaps not the Mudblood bits, those were definitely not my finest moments. Hate me if you must, but Granger, let me go._

 _I love you until my last breath. How many people can honestly say they've been on the receiving end of that?_

 _It would have been a beautiful life. I would have made sure of it. Now go live it. For both of us._

 _-Draco_

 _P.S. For the love of Merlin, don't marry Weasley. I'll fucking haunt you._


	3. Quite Some Time

Quite Some Time

* * *

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? I told you what would happen if you stayed and here you are being your usual annoying Gryffindor self! You just can't bloody help yourself, can you? If there's trouble you'll just run off to find it, won't you?" He shouted in her face and his fingers dug cruelly into her shoulders as he shook her harshly.

Her hair bounced with every jerk and her toffee eyes widened with every shout. She'd never seen him this way. He'd never been so completely unhinged and she didn't understand it. Finally, she braced her hands on his chest and shoved harshly, which stilled his furious movements. She huffed, quite prepared to deliver a scathing speech, but he crushed her to his chest and it was only then that she felt him tremble.

"What is wrong with you? Did you really think I could just abandon Harry now? Do you know what will happen to me if Voldemort wins? I can't let that happen if there's anything I do to stop it, I've got to try. You said you understood," Hermione angrily muttered into the hard lines of his chest and refused to be lulled by the warm hands beneath her crisp Oxford.

He jerked her backwards, yet his movements were decidedly calmer. His startlingly grey eyes were filled with panic and she didn't know how to soothe him. He was usually the calm and collected one and to see him on the verge of mental breakdown did funny things to erratic skip of her heart.

"I love you!" He shouted. "Don't you understand that? It's completely insane. It will get us both fucking killed, but it doesn't matter. I can't change it and I've tried! I don't want anything to do with this bloody war! I fucking love you and I can't lose you."

"You could go to Dumbledore," She offered lamely.

"I did, you insufferable bint," He hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks and avoided her probing scrutiny. "He said fuckall. He said he knew bloody everything and to simply do what was expected of me. Dodgy old fool offered me a lemon drop and said everything would work out in the end, whatever the fuck that means. Is that really all you've got to say?"

"Gods, Harry is going to kill me. You realise this? It's completely illogical. It would never work. You and I are supposed to be enemies. You're supposed to hate me because of my dirty blood and I'm supposed to reciprocate because you're a conceited pureblood bigot," She rambled and chewed her bottom lip in such a fashion he wanted to taste it.

"You're quite right. It will never work. We'll never work. We'll be proverbial outcasts no matter who wins. I suppose you expect me to walk away now? Is that your goal? Will you have a nice laugh about it later when you're cuddled up with your Gryffindor boyfriends?" He sneered nastily and she refused to relinquish her fisted hold on his robes.

"I love you," she gasped. "There are a million reasons I shouldn't. There are a million reasons this is absolute folly. You're going to rip out my heart and it appears I'll willingly you allow you such liberties because I love you."

He kissed her then. It wasn't a hurried kiss of the before. It wasn't a timid sort of 'should we be doing this' meeting of lips. It was hungry and laced with tears. It was desperate and filled with longing, but their time was limited, as always.

She sighed against his mouth and savoured the taste of his lips, even when their teeth clashed together. He thrust his hands into her Oxford simple to feel her warm skin against his palms before life wrenched them apart. Her fingernails scratched his scalp and his hips inadvertently swayed forward, yet she didn't retreat from the hardness that pressed into her thigh.

Her fingers hastily reached into his trousers and he gasped in surprise that quickly turned into a moan. He tore her knickers in a fit of impatience and smiled against her lips. It was wicked and new and passionate all the things it should be.

The tap dug into her back and she wondered when he had hefted her onto the edge. Such thoughts were lost quickly, especially with the deliciously slow manner he eased into her. She nipped his shoulder and hissed as he flexed his hips forward.

"Gods, yes," she moaned.

"How long have you wanted to do that, Granger?" He teased her with every languid thrust until she whimpered in need.

"Quite some time," she panted before the stars exploded behind her eyes.

He set her on her feet and smirked naughtily at the pretty pink blush on her cheeks. It was nearly second nature to capture her lips. She melted into him and he knew, he knew she was his.

"Hermione, what are you doing?!"

He reluctantly forced his lips from hers and pushed her behind him. His narrowed eyes burned with hatred directed toward the dark-haired wizard. He ignored the laments of Myrtle and focused his attention on the brandished wand pointed directly at his chest.

"You lied to me. You said you didn't—" Harry growled.

"Because I knew you wouldn't understand!" Hermione cried.

"You're right. I don't. Malfoy, step away from her," Harry commanded.

"I love her," Draco whispered.

Harry's upper lip twitched and his brilliant green eyes flashed with unrestrained rage. His fingers twitched and he could feel his magic roaring in his veins. Any sense of reasonableness was quickly distorted by his hatred and he felt no remorse as the spell flew from his lips.

"Sectumsempra."

* * *

I can't believe it," Harry snarled. "You still love him? After everything he's done? You're pathetic."

His head snapped to the left from the force of her slap and he thought perhaps he'd gone too far. He stood stock-still and allowed her fists to pummel his chest. He deserved it. He knew he did. He had been exceedingly cruel and she hadn't deserved it.

"When does it stop hurting?! Can you tell me that Harry James Potter?" Hermione shrieked through her sobs as she landed blow after blow. "Does it still rip out your heart to think of Ginny? Did you simply stop loving her because she died? Is that how it works? Do you pretend to love your wife as much as you loved Ginny? Does that make you feel better? Tell me, Harry. Tell me how to make it stop and I would."

Hermione sunk to the floor, the force of her sobs the only sound in the stillness. He couldn't bear to watch her hands cover her head to shield her from the emotional upheaval he had caused. It wasn't fair of him. He knew that now. It was his fault they weren't together. His hatred. He knew Hermione would always choose him and he used that to his advantage. He had been selfish and cruel and he had broken the smartest woman he'd ever known.

"I-I thought it was a passing phase," Harry whispered. "I thought if I got you away from him—" He choked on the words. "There's still time. You could go to him if that's what you want. He should have fought for you."

"He _did_ , you bastard."

Hermione scrambled to her knees and reached into her jumper. Her fingers closed around the thin chain and she withdrew it slowly. She couldn't look at the ring dangling from the end. It was far more than she deserved and she had refused.

"Merlin," Harry breathed as he stared at the jewellery that was filled with obvious intention.

"I said no," Hermione hiccupped. "I said the wounds of the war were too fresh. I broke his heart for _you_. I didn't know he was being Arranged and now it's too late. We never had a chance. I knew that from the start. I just didn't think it would hurt this much."

Harry stood there stupidly and stared at her. He didn't have the answers. He'd made a mess of things and broken his best mate in the process. He still couldn't believe Hermione Granger had not only fallen in love with Draco Malfoy but that it was reciprocated. It baffled him more than Luna babbling on about Nargles.

"It doesn't get easier. It doesn't lessen. It's always sort of there, stabbing you, but you learn to move forward. You do the best you can and it isn't ever enough."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better, Harry?" Hermione wiped her nose with the sleeve of her tatty grey cardigan and glared at him. "I was afraid. I was afraid to lose the security of my makeshift family. He told me I would regret it and I did, I do. I should have said yes. I wanted to say yes, but I was afraid and now it's too late. I've lost him, Harry, but, I never really had him, did I?"

"Ron would—"

"Don't speak to me of Ron. He's got it in his head that we're going to marry and be happy and everything will be fine. I'm not going to marry him, Harry. I can't bear for him to touch me. I can't bear for anyone to touch me," Hermione growled. "I'm going to Australia. Even if I can't remove the Memory Charm, I need to get away. I can't watch him marry her. I'm all broken, Harry and I love you, but I don't like you anymore."

"Hermione! You can't blame this all on me! You said no!" Harry quickly backed away from her and gulped noisily despite his burst of temper.

"I did. You're right, Harry," Hermione sighed sadly and twisted her unruly mane into a sloppy bun. "I said no. I watched the excitement and hope die in his eyes. I watched his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. I watched his face crumple before he sneered at me nastily and I knew he'd never forgive me. I did that, but you cursed him in the lavatory. You fed Ron's hatred. You knew I loved him and you didn't even try a little bit because you wanted me to settle for less. You wanted me to settle for Ron. You didn't care what I wanted, but it's always been that way, hasn't it?"

Hermione flicked her wand and watched her belongings float to her trunk. She couldn't stand to be in his presence another moment. She blamed him. She blamed herself. She blamed the War. She blamed everything, but it didn't matter. The course had been set and it refused to be altered.

"How long have you loved him?" Harry pressed her ire and inquired.

She stared at him sadly and he knew she was sifting through years of memories before she answered him. "Quite some time."

* * *

She huddled in front of the dwindling fire and refused to stoke it. She deserved to feel the cold settle into her bones. At least, that's what she believed for the moment. She tossed yet another owl from Harry into the fireplace and watched it burn.

Her fingers continuously toyed with the gem-crusted ring. She slid it along the thin chain and listened to the gentle scrape of metal against metal. It soothed her. It made her feel closer to _him_.

She barely acknowledged the creak of the inn door and closed her eyes. "I told you. I don't need anything."

"Obviously, that's a lie. You're a mess, Granger."

She covered her ears against the gentle lilt of his voice. It wasn't real. It was all in her head. She'd heard him on more than one occasion and it never got easier. She was fairly certain she was going mad.

"You're not real. You're not real. You're not real," she muttered as she rocked to and fro.

"I thought I was fucked up, but this is reprehensible," He snorted.

She cried out when he lifted her from her place near the hearth and set her on her feet. He yanked her hands from her ears and stared down at her angrily. This wasn't the witch that had slapped him in Third Year. This wasn't the witch that had spent many a night shouting at him in the Room of Hidden Things. This was a broken witch and while part of him felt satisfied to see she was filled with just as much ache as he, the other part wished nothing more than to fix her.

"Do you remember when you loved me?" He asked.

"Every minute of every day," she replied.

"Would you change it if you could go back?" He stroked her hair and waited for her eyes to open.

"Yes," she breathed and he flinched from the shock of agony. "I would have said yes."

He didn't care that her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. He didn't care that her cheeks were blotchy or that her hair was disastrous. He didn't even care that they were holed up in some disgustingly poor excuse for an inn when they should be been travelling the world in the best of accommodations. He only cared that she was in front of him.

"Potter sent me an owl. It was obvious he detested writing to me of all people and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy his discomfort. He told me some nonsense of you running off to bloody Australia. I find it hard to believe that you'd run off like that," Draco Malfoy smirked, but it fell short.

He casually lifted her into his arms and set her on the pitiful four-poster bed nestled in the corner. He'd always been fond of her silence. It amused him to see such a brilliant woman utterly and completely speechless. He leant down and kissed her forehead, just the way he used to and pushed her cardigan off her shoulders.

"I can't do it. I can't watch you marry her. I'm all broken. I'm standing at the edge of the precipice and I know it's my own fault, but I'm afraid I'll fall and I can't fall."

She hated the raw vulnerability that seeped into her voice. She hated feeling weak, being weak. She hated herself. She hated him. She hated everything and wished nothing more than the invention of a delicious new spell that would wash away the heartache.

She watched his nimble fingers unbutton his shirt and stared at the expanse of exposed pale skin. She lifted her arms as he dragged her blouse over her head and sighed as he touched her shoulder. She let her body fall to the feather tick, no longer concerned with silly things like propriety.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" He asked as he climbed between her willing thighs.

He nibbled the tauntingly arousing spot behind her ear and groaned as their bodies became one. Their eyes remained locked as they moved, a tangle of limbs and whispered affections. It was wrong but exceedingly right at the same time, but neither was concerned with the aftermath.

"Quite some time, I imagine," Hermione whispered as she held him tight and willed the moment to never end.

* * *

"Fucking ridiculous," he shouted and hurled his crystal tumbler into the wall.

He felt a smidge of satisfaction to hear his mother's gasp as the glass cascaded around them. He ignored the judgemental glower of his father and sneered at his poor excuse for a wife. He no longer cared what they thought, what they believed. It was beyond such limitations.

"The Contract is ironclad, Draco. There is nothing to be done," his mother sniffed with her subtle disapproval that ordinarily would have her son apologetic, but those days were over.

"The Malfoy line dies with me," Draco snarled. "You forced me to marry her, but you can't force me to fuck her."

"Must you?" His father snapped. "I don't understand all the fuss. Are you still going on about that Mud-Muggleborn?" Lucius Malfoy glanced at his wand in fear and breathed a sigh of relief when it remained still.

"I love her."

Narcissa baulked at her son's blatant emotional outburst. They were Blacks. They were Malfoys. They did not bandy about such emotional expressions in mixed company. It was ridiculously uncouth and she knew she taught him better. She blamed that Gryffindor for ruining her son. It was the only acceptable opinion.

"Wait, you knew? You knew he loved her and still, you Arranged us? Did you not think he deserved better? Did you not think _I_ deserved better? What good is a husband if he's in love with someone else?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at his wife and ignored her outburst. At least she broke the traditions as well. He supposed it was the reason they had chosen her. His parents had assumed one woman was the same as another or even that he was fickle. They were wrong.

"I want out," Draco stared at his father with hatred burning in his veins.

"What does it matter now, Draco? She's getting married. You'll what exactly? You'll desert your pretty little Pureblood wife, desecrate centuries of Malfoys with divorce to pant after a married woman?" Lucius snickered nastily and revelled in his superiority.

"S-she's pregnant," Draco's wife lamented.

"Just what the world needs another Half—" Lucius stopped and stared at the wide-eyed amazement plastered across his heir's face. "What have you done?" He squeezed his goblet until it cracked and he winced as the shards stabbed into his alabaster skin.

"Perhaps, if you give it a bit of time, Draco. Your affections will lie where they belong. If this child is in actuality yours, we can petition for custody. I'm sure your wife wouldn't refuse to raise your child, not if she knows what's good for her," Narcissa easily quipped.

"I want more than that," Draco breathed. "I want every fucking moment. I want her hellos and her goodbyes. I want her children to be my children. I want to go back in time and force her to say yes. I asked her to be mine and she refused because of the life you forced me into."

"He's being dramatic again, Cissy. You know I can't abide such Hufflepuffness in my son."

"How did this happen to us, Lucius. We did everything right. We raised him the way we were raised and he's thrown it all away. He's tainted the Malfoy family line," Narcissa sniffed haughtily.

"I don't care about the Malfoy line!" Draco shouted. "I care about her! I want her! I have a right to live my own life as I see fit! I want out! I shall not stop until the fucking Wizengamot agrees to hear my case. I hope you both rot."

Draco stormed from the Manor. His parent's patiently waited for him to see the error of his ways. The moment never came and it was only then that the prideful Malfoys considered their errors. Of course, by then it was entirely too late.

* * *

"Do you remember when you loved me?" He asked.

She gazed up at him with a hint of old fire in her eyes and blinked slowly as if to ward off the pain. "I try not to."

"Does it—does it still hurt?" His fingers wavered over her forearm before he thought better of it and tightened pale fingers into a shaky fist.

She sighed and shook her head over her shoulder as her husband glared at them from afar. "As much as the first goodbye." She stroked his cheek as she had once done habitually and sighed before she turned and walked away.

He closed his eyes to keep the precarious hold on his heart. He couldn't watch her walk away. Not again. Not this time.

"Draco?" His wife approached him timidly and he swallowed hard. "Are you alright?"

"No. I haven't been for quite some time." He allowed her cold fingers to touch his and lead him away. He nearly paused beside her, just one last time and decided against it.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

"No. I haven't been for quite some time," She looked into the concerned eyes of her husband and flinched away from eyes that weren't searing and grey.

Her husband sighed and knew better than to press the issue. He knew she didn't love him, not the way he loved her. He simply continued to fool himself into the belief he loved her enough for both of them.

"Oi. Hermione! Come on! You shouldn't be out here in your condition," Harry Potter tossed his arm over her shoulders with a smile and Hermione shook it off to walk beside Luna.

She couldn't bear the stifling overprotection of her best mates. They wouldn't understand. They didn't understand and she couldn't hurt them any longer. It was getting harder to pretend, but she could do it. She would do it, for their sake as well as hers.

"Are you excited?" Luna scrunched her nose and patted Hermione's burgeoning girth with a serene smile.

"Not as much as I should be, I wager."

Luna studied the crinkle in her friend's brow and the way her deep brown eyes constantly flitted toward a particular Slytherin. She resisted the urge to comment and simply looped her arm through Hermione's.

"Hmm yes. Do you wonder what she'll look like?" Luna hoped the question would distract Hermione from the heavy thoughts surrounding her.

Hermione paused in her forward progression and searched for him in the crowd. Her lips parted and a silent gasp escaped when she spied his eyes burning into her. They gazed at each other over the sea of witches and wizards with an obvious longing. The tension was heartbreaking in its simplicity.

"I hope she has his eyes," was all she said.

* * *

"Mum?"

Hermione's weary eyes fluttered as she struggled to focus on her only child. She smiled a small broken smile when her daughter's dark blonde hair caught the sunlight. She stretched her withered hair toward a wayward curl and her heart broke just a little more that day.

"Yes, Nysa," she croaked.

"Dad said to ask you about my father. He said it wasn't his place to tell me about him. I've waited for you to tell me, but you haven't. I'm all grown now, mum."

The striking blonde perched on the edge of her mother's bed and Hermione had to admire her daughter's intensity. She clutched the long fingers in her own and sighed. It was a precarious slope, but what did it matter now that she was at the end of her days?

"He died, love and it nearly killed me as well. Your dad, good man that he is, whisked me away from London. It was for the best, really. We didn't want you to grow up amidst the whispers. You've had a good life, Nysa. Why does it matter now?"

Nysa stroked her mother's grey hair with a gentle hand. She knew there wasn't much time left, but she deserved the truth. She deserved to know about the man her mother had loved, still loved.

"The Malfoys, they sent me an owl. I haven't responded or anything like that. I don't know much about them. They said some things and I'm curious. I've nearly finished my Healer training and dammit mum. I've a right to know!"

Hermione coughed and struggled to press the handkerchief against the spittle on her lips. Her magic waned with every passing day and she knew it was nearly time. She was excited for the end of this life, but she couldn't share such things with her family. They wouldn't understand.

"Your father and I were quite the mismatched pair. Some would say it was destined to fail and others would say it made perfect sense. There's no way to know, not now. He was the cause of the rift between Harry and I. I let it fester rather than attempting to heal the wound. I was bitter and angry, but what does it matter now, Nysa?

'My diaries are in the hatbox in my wardrobe. I detailed every moment we had together. You'll learn things you wish you hadn't, but I'm not sorry. If it hadn't been for those moments, you wouldn't exist and you've been the light of my life, love."

Nysa crawled into her mother's bed and laid her head on Hermione's shoulder. She didn't like how cold her mum felt. She didn't like the sound of her mum's breaths. She didn't like any of it, but her dad said the day Draco Malfoy died was the day her mother died as well. Her magic slowly ebbed until it was nothing more than a trickle and then the sickness set in.

"No one will tell me how he died," Nysa whispered and Hermione shifted in order to stare into eyes that mirrored her own.

"Of course, they wouldn't. It was quite scandalous, really. He'd managed to break his contract, you see. You were, gods let me think. You were nearly three by that point, yes, that's right. The Wizengamot was up in arms and it was chaos. We lived in a small cottage near Cokeworth," Hermione's eyes glazed over with sheer happiness. "He came for me. You were playing in the garden and your dad was off on business somewhere, I can't recall."

"He met me?" Nysa breathed.

"Met you?" Hermione cackled. "He adored you. He loved you from the moment he set eyes on you. He said you were the perfect blend of us. He said he wanted a houseful of children that looked just like you."

"Mum, what happened?" Nysa begged.

"He kissed me," Hermione rasped. Her right hand curled into a fist and it rubbed the space where her heart gently thumped. "There was a caveat. We didn't know. He didn't know. It wasn't in the copy he had. It was filed away in the Ministry. The moment the Wizengamot granted his request, the little piece of Dark fucking Magic stole his life. I held him in my arms long after he was gone. I'm told they had to pry me from him."

Nysa's deep brown eyes widened in shock laced with awe. She had never heard her mother utter such foulness. She watched her mother's mouth slacken and immediately pressed her ear to Hermione's chest. She held her breath and waited.

"Mum?! Mum! Not yet! Please! I'm not ready!"

"Soon, love, soon," Hermione murmured.

She knew she had to open her eyes. She had to finish telling her tale, but she could see him. He was right there, standing beside her, finally. His smile was as brilliant as it always had been and it was all for her. He looked the same and her heart leapt to life in pleasure.

"You're here," she whispered.

"Mum? Who's here? Dad? Something's wrong!" Nysa leapt from the bed and ran from the room, forgetting every speck of Healer Training she'd ever had.

"You've kept me waiting long enough, Granger," Draco Malfoy bent and kissed her dry cracked lips with reverence.

"I've missed you. Has it really been that long? Feels like it was yesterday," Hermione said as she offered her hand.

"It's been quite some time," Draco smirked.


	4. Then & Now

Then & Now

* * *

As the weather turned colder, the ache began to twinge. It was that gentle reminder of loss. It had been years and still, it ached. He cursed the icy temperatures and huddled beneath his Weasley-made caftan with a scowl.

The hearth needed to be stoked, yet he refused to lift his wand and do it. Part of him hoped his grim old place would succumb to the blistery cold. Perhaps he'd be found near his birthday, ripe and severely decomposed. He bet she'd regret it then.

Maybe she wouldn't, he sighed. Maybe she'd be relieved. Maybe she wouldn't miss their stilted chatter over coffee while she avoided talking about her husband and her impending child. Maybe she'd shed a tear and name her next bloody child after him, if her husband would let her.

Husband, he scoffed. The title should have been his. It would have been his, given enough time. He'd only needed more time. He didn't want to rush into things after the end of his prior relationship. She'd said she'd understood! She'd said she'd understood and then, under a full moon, with tears on her cheeks, she told him she was sorry.

The box in his blazer pocket had burned fiercely while she cried. He had been too late. He'd thought he'd had more time. He never thought she'd leave him. She loved him, she swore she did, even as she kept speaking the words that tore him to shreds.

"Are you still coming with me?" He'd finally asked.

The snow began to fall and he tried not to focus on the white flakes that clung to her long eyelashes. He hated the way her chin wobbled while she inhaled shaky breaths. It wasn't supposed to be like this. His hand automatically rose to brush a teardrop from her cheek, but she flinched away from his touch. It was over. It was really over.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she whispered.

"We've always done it. Even before, it was just our thing. Don't you remember?" He recognised the hysteria as his voice rose, but it couldn't be helped. She had ruined everything.

"Of course I remember, it's just," she sighed. "He's waiting for me. I told him I wouldn't be long. I knew I had to tell you, but it couldn't have been a surprise."

He'd always hated her condescending tone and there it was, shoved in his face. There were many things he didn't like about her, but so many more, he loved. Didn't she realise how much he loved her? Couldn't she feel it?

"I've never gone alone. It's always been you. I had planned—"

"Don't Harry, please don't. I know. I found the box. It was an accident. It must have fallen from your bureau. I'd dropped my earring and—" She shook her head and he watched the snowflakes spin to the covered ground.

He frowned. He had to have heard her wrong. She knew? She knew what he planned and she ran off with him? _Him_? They were polar opposites and if she loved him…

"Did you ever love me?" He sniffled against the cold and yanked his hat over his ears.

She sighed and her shoulders fell. He didn't recognise her heavy winter overcoat and knew it was a gift from _him_. He wished he had paid closer attention when she'd told him it wasn't working. He'd wished he'd tried harder and showered her with obscure books he'd never read and burnt pancakes. She'd always loved his burnt pancakes.

"It's not the same. Please don't do this, not now."

"Not now? When shall I do it then? It's fucking Christmas, Hermione. It's Christmas!" He'd shouted and his breath expelled in great white puffs. "We're supposed to venture to Godric's Hollow and visit my parents, together, as we've always done. You're supposed to hold my hand and put your head on my shoulder. I'm supposed to feel that warmth that floods through me every fucking time you're near and kiss your temple. Later, after we'd come back to mine, I'd stoke the fire, you'd make the cocoa and right then is when I would ask you to be mine." His cheeks were frozen and he was sure they were blistery red, but he didn't care. She'd ruined everything.

"I told you it wasn't working, Harry. I told you needed more. I moved out, Harry and you barely grunted. It wasn't what it was supposed to be. I loved you, Harry, but I need to be loved more. It's exhausting to give every bit of me to the point where I've lost these pieces and to get nothing in return."

She was downright sobbing then and he had been tempted to pull her into his arms, but he didn't. He could see the dark shadow in the distance. He knew he was being watched and he didn't want to fucking brawl with her new love on bloody Christmas. He still had a little pride left.

"Nothing in return? Really?" He scoffed. "I was just a selfish inconsiderate bloke, is that right? I didn't offer to travel to Australia with you, that wasn't me. I didn't make you cups of tea and pancakes when you weren't feeling well, guess that wasn't me either. I didn't pick up a bouquet of your favourite daisies when I was out for a jaunt. I didn't buy you the latest edition of your favourite book or anything either." He sneered nastily only to deflect from the tears lodged in his throat.

"I hate pancakes," she growled. "I hate them. Ginny loves pancakes, not me. Ginny also loves daisies. My favourite book hasn't been Hogwarts: A History since I was in Third Year. You love the idea of me. You don't love me. You can't. You don't even know me."

He hadn't seen her for months after that. He hadn't wanted to. He hadn't wanted to see anyone, but eventually, Ron had dragged him out and about. He'd wished he'd fought harder.

He saw her as he knew he would. She was happy. Happier than he'd seen her in, well in ever, and that hurt too. Why couldn't she smile at him like that? Why couldn't she look at him like he hung the moon?

"You can't stare at her like that, Harry. She's a married woman." Ron bumped his elbow and he felt the tepid ale splash against his hand but everything was numb without her.

"Married? She actually married _him_?" His voice was scratchy and low in the loud pub, but no one took notice.

"Where have you been? It was all over the Prophet. He proposed on Christmas. Got her father's blessing and everything, not that I expected less. He did go with her to retrieve them and all."

"I-I should have gone," he lamented.

"Why would you?" Ron scoffed. "She'd already moved out. Would have been right awkward with you _and_ Malfoy in attendance. Cor, can you imagine?" Ron chortled and he envisioned choking his mate to death.

He knew when she saw him. He could feel her eyes on him and for a singular moment, the sun shone down on him and he felt warm. Slowly, his eyes flicked over his shoulder and the raucous sounds fell away. It was only her and everything was right in the world.

"Harry," she breathed. "I'm glad Ron managed to drag you here for my birthday."

Her birthday? Had it really been that long? Where had the time gone? How did he get it back? That couldn't be right, it was Christmas just a few weeks ago, wasn't it? Not that it mattered, he'd spent it alone anyway.

"How are you?" He'd asked uncertainly.

"Incredibly tired, actually, but that's neither here nor there." She didn't move to embrace him and it hurt him more than it ought to.

He pretended he didn't see the pale hand that slid along her waist and dropped to her stomach. He felt the bile in his throat and lurched from the stool. He fell into Ron's side and his stomach erupted in his friend's lap.

"Weasley, take Hermione home, would you? I'd like to have a word with Potter."

He hated that drawl. He hated the air of authority that surrounded such a wanker. He hated everything about Draco Malfoy, but most of all he hated that Malfoy had Hermione.

Through bleary eyes, he observed the Malfoy prat whisper in Hermione's ear. He saw the worry in her brow that was erased with a soft kiss placed on her lips. _He_ was the man that soothed her stresses now and gods did that hurt.

He didn't know why he allowed Malfoy to drag him into the street. He wasn't interested in anything the man had to say. He wanted to follow straight after Hermione, fall on his knees, and beg her forgiveness.

"Potter, Potter, Potter, it seems your special brand of pathetic knows no bounds." He listened to Draco laugh and swung his fist. He missed; of course, he missed and wound up sat on the pavement.

"She was mine."

"Yes, yes she was," Draco sneered. "It was ridiculously easy to whisk her away from you. Poor girl was in dire need of uhm some special attention, if you know what I mean."

"I love her," He moaned into his hands as the stench of his sick rose from the spots on his wrinkled shirt.

"I know, that's what makes it even better." Draco squatted beside the rumpled wizard and smiled widely. "It wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. Little touches here and there. A compliment and a smile. Who knew that the simple act of remembering how she takes her tea would lead me directly into her knickers?"

"I'm going to be sick." He braced his hands beside his knees just to keep his body erect and dry heaved until it hurt.

"By all means, Potter, get it all out. I'm not nearly finished with you." Draco hefted Harry to his feet and shoved him along the pavement until they happened upon an empty Muggle park. Draco sat Harry on the stone bench and sighed happily.

"Why?" He croaked.

"Why not?" Draco took in their surroundings and sniffed. "The first time I kissed her, she pushed me away and told me she couldn't. Told me she loved you and it wasn't fair. The second time, she pulled me into a storage room and she moaned so loudly when I touched her breasts. They're really quite impressive. The third time was in my office at the Ministry. I probably would have shagged her if Weasley hadn't interrupted."

"R-Ron? Ron knew?" His head spun and his chest was tight, which made it difficult to breathe.

"He suspected, but when he walked in on us with Granger straddled across my lap, he was quite put out. You'll have to ask him what happened as I haven't the slightest idea. I never asked as I honestly didn't care. I probably shouldn't tell you any more. I really don't like to upset my wife, especially now that she's pregnant. Did you know that, Potter? She's having my child and I couldn't be happier." Draco preened arrogantly and finally sat beside the broken wizard.

"You've come this far," He sighed with that broken sort of resignation of failure.

"Gods, Potter, it was so easy. It was like taking lollies from a First Year. I bumped against her in the lift and she blushed. I grazed her fingertips whenever she handed me a file and her breath caught. I tucked a curl behind her ear and I could bloody smell her arousal. The next time we were in the lift, I stood behind her and when it lurched, like it always fucking does, I grasped her waist and she pushed into me. I squeezed her arse and she liked it. I did what any bloke would do when faced with that. I bunched up her skirt and slipped my hand into her knickers. She spread those pretty little thighs and I think she was insanely aroused by the fear of discovery. I backed her into the corner and asked her if she liked it."

"Please, stop," Harry finally begged.

"That's definitely not what she said. I finger fucked her nice and slow that day. I had to cover her mouth when she came, otherwise we would have been discovered. It was nary a week later and she was spread on my desk while I fucked her with my tongue. Did you even know she liked that Potter? I doubt it. She always said things like Harry never did that. I decided right then and there, to simply do everything you'd never done. She's a fantastic shag, Potter."

"Y-you knew about our Christmas." He angrily wiped his eyes and desperately searched his pockets for his wand.

"Of course, I did. She told me everything. I proposed on Christmas. I married her on the two-year anniversary of the day we retrieved her parents from Australia. Our son is due in a few months and I'm rather hoping for a Yule baby. Gods, I hope one day we have a daughter right on your birthday." Draco laughed heartily and it echoed in the silence of the night.

"Why? You have everything."

He shakily stood and looked into empty dark grey eyes. The warmth that had been present while Draco had kissed Hermione was gone. He knew the truth, but he needed to hear it. He needed the words to seep through his agony and drag him roaring back to life.

"I told you, Potter. I told you when my father was carted off to Azkaban when we were children. I told you during the War when your lot dropped Crabbe to his death. I told you, after my trial, when half my wealth was stolen by the Ministry. Don't you remember?"

Draco Malfoy leant down and his pale eyebrows lift in a silent jeer. There was something infinitely satisfying to see the Golden Boy reduced to nothing more than tears and vomit. Everything had come together perfectly and Potter had no one to blame but himself.

"You'll pay for that, Potter. T-that's what you said. It's what you've always said. It didn't, it didn't _mean_ anything!"

He wobbled on his feet as the world spun around him faster and faster until he was forced to close his eyes. The past and the present converged into a blackholed abyss completely bereft of Hermione. He'd lost her. He'd ruined everything and finally, finally, Draco Malfoy…had won.

"A Malfoy always means exactly what he says, Potter. I do think Hermione was the ultimate price. Now I truly _do_ have everything. I suppose I ought to thank you," Draco laughed. As he walked away, he paused and revelled in seeing Harry Potter literally brought to his knees, "tell me," he called, "was it worth it?"


	5. Ne Me Quitte Pas

Ne Me Quitte Pas

* * *

" _Wait. What are you doing? Where are you going? You can't. You promised."_

The hysteria ladened voice rang in his ears while his belongings filled his trunk. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't bear to see the desperation in her eyes while her lips continued their infernal begging. There was nothing left to say.

It was strange being the one to walk out the door, to walk away from everything they were. Even as the crisp night air nipped at his nose, he convinced himself the sting in his eyes was nothing more than the effects of the stiff breeze. He'd always believed it would be her. She would be the one to calmly stuff her tatty books in her infernal beaded bag and bid him adieu, but that's not what happened at all.

" _It didn't mean anything. You said you wouldn't do this. You said you had forgiven me."_

He thought he had. He tried, more than he ever tried with anyone else, yet it wasn't enough. Every night when they climbed into their obscenely large bed, he wondered. He wondered if she had kissed him in the bedroom. He wondered if she had fucked him on their bed.

He'd take a deep breath, allow her to wedge into his side, and close his eyes. The darkness was the worst. His mind was his own worst enemy as it insisted upon expounding on his thoughts and creating entire scenarios that sickened him. He tried to forgive her, but he couldn't bear to look at her. All he saw was _him_ and he couldn't forgive her for that.

" _You danced with her. You danced and smiled with her in ways you never have with me. I saw you and I'm still here. Don't do this. I've given up everything for you, you can't. Don't leave me, not like this."_

He angrily stomped the streets, his thoughts wandering, taunting him as they were apt to do, and he knew he couldn't Apparate. He'd Splinch himself and no one would be the wiser. For a moment, the barest hint of a second, he considered it and nearly embraced the ramifications. She'd never forgive herself and bitterly, selfishly, he almost didn't want her too.

The Knight's Bus rocked him to and fro and he snarled only to keep from howling. He physically ached with the intensity of his agony. He'd never experienced emotions so strongly before her. He'd been perfectly content to continue in his apathetic existence and he nearly wished he had. It would have been better than reeling from the discovery of his wife wrapped around another wizard.

" _This can't be the way this ends. I refuse to accept it. You love me, I know you love me."_

"It isn't enough." His voice broke, his baggage bouncing along the pavement behind him until he stopped before a familiar door.

He didn't want to knock. He didn't want his greatest shame since childhood to shine under the beacon of scrutiny, but he couldn't go home. He didn't have a home, not any longer.

His breath exhaled in a great puff and he watched it waft into the distance before he forced his fist to rap against the wood. He was bitterly cold and he revelled in it while he waited. He'd spent the last few weeks utterly and completely numb, it was nice to feel something, even if it hurt.

He pushed passed the rumpled wizard with his stupid mussed hair and his ridiculously round spectacles. He scoffed at the suggestions for tea or sending his wife an owl. He didn't care if she was worried. She should be fucking worried.

"When did I stop being enough?"

He didn't expect an answer, nor did he receive one. Instead, they sat in silence and when his fists yanked on tufts of blond hair, a firm hand was there to remove them. A handkerchief was pressed into his palms and he would have cried if he'd had any tears left to shed.

"She said it was nothing. She said it didn't mean anything. She said it was an accident," he growled, his head hung low, his eyes on the faded red carpet. "How the fuck is that an accident? How am I supposed to believe her, supposed to trust her after that?"

"Do you love her?"

"Are you always so fucking stupid? Of course I love her, if I didn't, I wouldn't feel like my heart's been ripped from my chest." He drew a ragged breath, knuckles pressed against his heart and shook his head. "Why does this keep happening? I didn't much care when my ex-wife shagged that Italian Beater, it was par for course, but this, this is a different sort of betrayal."

He accepted the piping hot mug of tea he didn't want, wincing as the heat returned feeling to his frigid fingers. He shouldn't have come, not here. There would be no words of encouragement or even disparagement of his wife, not here.

"It was only a kiss."

He nearly leapt from the lumpy green armchair and bludgeoned the bastard to death. It was more than a simple kiss. He'd seen it with his own eyes. It was bodies entwined and shirts askew and roving hands while mouths slanted and tongues danced.

"Were you there? I was and let me tell you it more than a bloody peck. There's no need to imagine what would have happened if I hadn't come home early and I'm disgusted by it." He choked on the words, his eyes burning and he no longer fought the droplets as they escaped. "I know I work too much, but so does she. I know we don't spend nearly enough time together anymore, but that's no excuse for her behaviour. She had the audacity to tell me how much she's given up simply being with me as if I should be grateful. I gave up my fucking inheritance for her and never said a word. I didn't want her to feel responsible for my choices. I chose her and she fucking snogged _him_ in my house."

The dark-haired wizard felt ill. He hadn't known the details, could barely understand her sobbing through the Floo. He was filled with disappointment that quickly segued to anger. He didn't want to feel particularly sympathetic toward the distraught wizard in his sitting room, but he did.

"I didn't know it was like that."

"Of course you didn't! I actually didn't expect you to know anything at all. We all know how she adores keeping her sins hidden, don't we? I mean fuck, I'm a fool. My mother warned me and I refused to listen. She's different, I said. She wouldn't do that, I said. Except that's not true at all, is it?" He laughed and it was a harsh sound, utterly mirthless.

"I don't know what you mean." He scratched his head and eyed the blond carefully.

"It doesn't surprise me that she didn't tell you. Hell, I was her delicious little secret for two years of her marriage, Potter. I believed her when she told me she didn't love him. I believed her when she told me she'd never do that to me because she loved me too much. I believed her and I walked in on her and him and—"

"I'll kill him," Harry vowed, his green eyes darkened, his lip curled in rage.

"Kill _her_. She's the problem. She's fucking toxic."

The two wizards stared at each other, neither willing to accept defeat. They blinked simultaneously until Harry finally conceded. He tightened his flannel robe around his midriff and decanted the firewhiskey. He didn't much care what Malfoy wanted, but he definitely needed a drink.

"What are you doing to do?"

He tossed back the welcome tumbler of amber liquid and scowled at the flickering fire. The flecks of yellow against the dark brown logs reminded him of her eyes. The warmth it exuded reminded him of the feel of her body against his. He couldn't escape her, he never could.

"I'm going to drink, then I'm going to drink some more. I'm going to attend a lunch tomorrow I'd rather skip and I'll be completely hungover. I've taken a leave of absence from work because I missed her," he laughed, yet the sound of gaiety quickly segued into a harsh sob.

He covered his face and wept into his hands, hating himself and her for that matter. He hated her as much as he loved her. Gods, did he love her.

His father refused to speak his name and swore he had no son. His mother, while slightly kinder, still scoffed at his life choices. Their interactions were strained at best, not that he's spoken to them in years anyway.

" _It's for the best, Draco. The last thing the Malfoy line needs is a Halfblood. Consider yourself blessed."_

He'd kept the final owl from his mother. The edges were worn, the letters faded, but the words still stung. It was easy to pinpoint the moment everything had fallen apart.

He'd been completely over the moon when she discovered she was pregnant. He'd gone utterly batty with purchases and preparations. She'd laughed at him, but her eyes had sparkled with happiness. She was happy. They were happy; until it all came crumbling down.

They'd tried for two years, but in a blink of an eye, it was gone. Clichéd words of sympathy filled their ears, not that they meant anything. Wasn't your fault. Nothing that could have been done. You'll have more children. Children are a hassle anyway, you're better off.

She wanted to try again, but he couldn't. He was terrified of having what he wanted most in his grasp just to have it whisked away in the vast oblivion of nothingness. They're argued, nasty rows, but he refused to budge and it was the beginning of the end.

"Draco, you're not even listening to me."

"No, I'm really not." He prodded his chicken with disinterest and refused to meet the imploring eyes of his ex-wife.

"You haven't changed much have you?" She laughed as they stood and slapped his chest with an open hand.

Of course, that's when the photograph was snapped, not that he noticed. There were moments, small moments, when he missed Astoria. It was easy with her, probably because he hadn't loved her, but he didn't want to dwell upon semantics.

"Why did you cheat on me?" He asked as they strolled down Diagon Alley, ignoring the questioning glances and downright glares.

"You were absent. You didn't love me. I didn't love you and you weren't there. It's an awful reason, but Giancarlo made me feel alive and I needed that. I needed to know it existed. I needed to stop settling and I should have left you long before that, but I was afraid. I didn't want to be saddled with the judgement or confront my parents, but somewhere along the way I stopped caring."

She stopped short and spun on her heel in order to force eye contact. His eyes were rimmed red and puffy, which was the only indication the great Draco Malfoy had shed tears. It hurt, even after all this time, it hurt to know he hadn't loved her. It ached to know he'd abandoned everything in favour of someone that wasn't her.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"She has your heart, Draco. She made a mistake, but haven't we all? She's behind you by the way. I'd kiss your cheek, but I prefer my limbs attached. She looks angry. Good luck."

He didn't turn. He considered Apparating but knew he'd have to speak to her eventually. He couldn't fun forever. He wasn't a cowardly child anymore.

" _Ne me quitte pas."  
_ " _I don't know what that means."  
_ " _Don't leave me."  
_ " _Never."_

He felt her beside him, her small hand suddenly looped through the crook in his elbow. His feet moved of their own accord, easily following her in silence. Silence was good. Silence was easy. Silence didn't bring the glaring truth to light. Silence didn't hurt.

"He's been owling me and I didn't tell you. He's been telling me how wrong he was and how much he misses me. He's said things he's never said before and it was nice to hear them, but I didn't want to hear them from him. I wanted to hear them from you, but you haven't touched me in a year—"

"I touch you." It was second nature to rebuff her claims, search for the discord, ignite the flame.

"You haven't _really_ touched me since we lost the baby." She faltered in her heels and he encircled her waist, breathing her in. "It doesn't excuse my actions. I-I regretted it immediately. I got caught up in the moment and then he was kissing me, but that wasn't the worst part."

"Was it perhaps the moment I walked in and ruined the moment?"

He was being an arse and he knew it. He simply didn't care. He wanted to be angry, but when faced with her obvious upset and her tears, he wavered.

"After you left, he smirked at me. He looked so pleased with himself. He leaned in close and said feels right awful, doesn't it? Bet he knows exactly how I felt."

She was shaking, the cold had seeped through her overcoat, but that wasn't the issue. She'd been manipulated and in her desperation for human contact, she'd succumbed to her ex-husband's advances, nefarious as they were. Her bottom lip trembled and his thumb stroked across the battered skin until she managed to look up at him.

"Always said he was a bastard." His thin lips stretched into a smile that almost reached his eyes, almost.

"Did you," she cleared her throat, "did you sleep with—"

"Did you?" He countered.

She bristled, her dark brown eyes narrowed dangerously, her fingers curled into fists until her nails pierced her palms. Her jaw clenched until her teeth gnashed together in violent rebellion. Her righteous indignation amused him until it dissipated into a puddle of unrecognizable, insecure witch.

"No."

"No."

"Do you forgive me?"

She lurched for him, brown curls bouncing unfettered on her shoulders, arms flung around his neck in an impressive iron grip. She didn't care they were in the midst of Diagon Alley, surrounded by gasps of outrage and surprise. She needed to feel him. She needed to inhale his heady familiar scent. She needed—

"No, but I'll get there." He wiped a singular tear from her cheek and nodded. "Let's go home."

He inched down slowly, grey on brown, his lips aching to feel hers. It was slow, tentative even, laced with tears and bogies. Warm breaths in frigid air, whimpers of relief, chest to chest and not nearly close enough.

He didn't say he loved her, she knew.


	6. The Price We Pay

The Price We Pay

* * *

The torrential rain cascaded down the windowpanes while the turbulent winds crashed through the trees. The topiaries bowed as the leaves were shredded from their stems. The naked branches danced, slapping the glass and each other, creating a delicate beat in tune with his heart.

 _Push._

The rain fed his melancholy as it oozed from his pores. He hadn't felt the faint flicker of happiness or joy in so long, he'd nearly forgotten the sensation. He imagined it was the same for her and they were condemned for their grief.

 _I can't. I can't. He's too early. Everything is wrong. It isn't supposed to be like this._

He watched her, curled on the window seat, huddled beneath masses of quilts, not that she looked at him. Her eyes were glassy, vacant even, and he pretended her choked sobs were yet another song sung by the storm. He hadn't the words to comfort her nor she, him.

They barely existed and the house that love built was tumbling down around them in tatters, suffocating them in the rubble. Every breath was a dagger. Every stiff smile twisted in their chest.

 _He's beautiful. It isn't fair. How can he be so beautiful?_

He listened to the pitter patter of their children's feet and yet found no joy in the sound of their laughter. He should be grateful, shouldn't he? She should be satisfied, shouldn't she? It was more than others had and the others never shied away from informing them of such.

Her fingers trembled while she sipped tea long gone cold and he didn't flinch when it tumbled to the floor. The shattering of china blended into the thunderous cacophony. Their eyes met and even from across the room their inner turmoil was palpable. He swore he could taste it on his tongue.

 _I don't want to try again, Draco! How many times is enough? How many children must we bury before it's enough?_

It was such a simple thing and perhaps they took it for granted. It was something everyone could do, wasn't it? She hadn't struggled before him; before they were a they. She told him as much when he worried himself sick as their first bloomed within her.

He'd already lost a wife. He didn't want to lose another; he couldn't bear it. She meant more to him than he ever imagined possible. He hadn't known it was possible to revere a woman as much as his son.

 _Perhaps we're being punished. I never loved him the way I love you and maybe this is the price we pay._

She wouldn't let him touch her, not in any way that counted, not anymore. She blamed it on the blemishes marring her abdomen. She blamed it on the pliant skin that was a constant reminder of what they had lost. She blamed it on many things, but secretly he wondered if she loved him anymore and he supposed she wondered the same.

Next time. Next would be better. It was the mantra they chanted in whispers while their hearts were torn asunder, except there was no longer any next times. They were out of times, out of chances, out of hope.

 _She was perfect. Did you see her perfect little toes and those ridiculously long fingers? I bet she would have been tall._

She named them. She always named them, even when he wished she wouldn't. They were nothing more than quiet dreams, some of them, and even their dreams despised them.

These things happen. Try again. It will be different next time. Be grateful you've got any at all. There's always adoption. Not everyone is meant to have children. If you stop trying it will happen, that always works. Did you try… What about…

The storm took a vicious turn, rattling the windows, and he heard the children scream. He looked at her, waiting for something, anything to draw her from her shroud of anguish. She blinked, brown eyes following him as he wrenched open the door and their children scurried toward her.

 _I held them in the palm of my hand and I swear my heart shattered._

He watched the way her hand smoothed over his son's pale blonde hair and his eyes softened. She loved his son as fiercely as she did her own. He adored that about her. She eagerly stepped into the role of mother and it suited her. It always had.

His son, her daughter, they would be off to Hogwarts soon and the silences would grow, he imagined. The laughter would lessen with fewer children to scamper down the corridors causing mischief. He would miss them terribly and knew her heart would break just a bit more. How much longer before she succumbed to her grief? How much time did he have left before he lost her as well?

 _I'm sorry I'm defective. You deserve better. You deserve better than me._

After the children had settled, eagerly leaving their parents for promises of tea and biscuits, she turned to him. Her red-rimmed eyes just a touch clearer, her breaths finally steady. "I love you, you know that, don't you?"

He nodded, slowly, so as not to scare her back to silence, and swallowed with difficulty. He stretched his legs and stood with a muted groan, his hands braced in the small of his back. Carefully, he crossed the study, his eyes locked on hers and for the first time in ages, she saw a pain beyond her own.

The quilts fell to the floor in her haste to stand and she met him, tumbling into his waiting arms. They were happy once. Their love shone brightly enough to rival the sun and perhaps the Universe took issue with that.

"We were so happy once and I want it back. I need it. I can't keep on like this."

"Me too."

He held her delicately, as if she would break, even as she clung to him. Her curls brushed his chin and he inhaled, her delicate floral scent appeasing the panic in his chest. She wouldn't leave him. She never would. She had promised and he would never wish for anything else.

He needed her and perhaps it was sacrilege to compare her to air, but it felt much the same.

"We were too happy, weren't we? That's why it keeps happening, isn't it? It was almost perfect. It would have _been_ perfect and that would misalign the planets. There's no such thing as perfection and we almost were."

His broken smile scraped against her hair before he cupped her face with shaky hands. He didn't wipe away the tears spilling down her cheeks. He felt them drip along his thumbs as he bent to kiss her. His lips pressed tentatively, worry burrowing its way into his thoughts until she sighed, nearly sagging against him in relief.

"Perhaps, this is just the price we pay."


End file.
